


Don't Wait Another Day

by nuttymussel



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuttymussel/pseuds/nuttymussel
Summary: Sid’s smile grew slightly, and he let himself be pushed outside onto the deck. It had been a while since he’d hung out with Geno, just the two of them. Something had been strange, since Geno had come back in September. Geno was quieter, almost contemplative, and had drawn back from Sid’s personal space.Geno had been in and around Sid’s personal space for nearly eighteen years. He wasn’t sure if he missed it.





	Don't Wait Another Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoneycombHenry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneycombHenry/gifts).



> The first fic I've completed and/or posted ever. I'm actually pretty happy with it. Title from the song Something New by The Score.

He had been planning on watching the Sharks play the Oilers. As it turned out, watching hockey was much more difficult to give up than playing. That would have surprised him eighteen months ago. Not that he had needed to give up playing: he could have kept playing longer, but the hit had worried him. In Sid’s eyes, thirty-eight and a hip that now protested as the November air chilled around him was better than another concussion. 

Anything was better than another concussion. He had been lucky, this time. He hadn’t wanted to take that risk again and lose hockey entirely. At least this way, he could still play for fun, with his hockey school, with ex-teammates turned friends. 

The pre-game was on but muted as Sid finished his chapter. The doorbell rang. His face scrunched up in confusion. At this point in his life, in the year, anyone that got through the gate could just let themselves in. It was a short list – shorter than he’d hoped to have at thirty-eight – but he counted himself lucky that he was surrounded by good people. People he trusted. He grunted slightly as he stood up from the couch and walked to his door. 

It was Geno. Sid frowned and opened the door. 

“You have a key,” he said. Geno wasn’t one to stand on ceremony, to pay attention to formalities, not since their early days playing together. Geno huffed and pushed past Sid into the foyer. 

“Busy?” He asked, taking off his coat. It had been raining all day; Sid had sat by the window earlier and read his book to the soundtrack of the rain. He could smell the dampness on Geno’s coat.

Sid shook his head. “I was going to-”

“Watch Sharks game, yes, you predictable,” Geno snorted, turning expectantly and waiting. 

Sid sighed and quirked a smile, something in his chest warming. “I have some steaks,” he offered. Geno’s expression brightened almost comically, and he ushered Sid to the kitchen. Sid’s smile grew slightly, and he let himself be pushed towards his fridge, then outside onto the deck. It was a little late in the year for grilling outside, but it had been a while since he’d hung out with Geno, just the two of them, and steak always tasted better done properly. He took a deep breath in as he started up the grill; past the beginnings of smoke, he could smell the rain misting on the pine trees and the grass. Geno was silent, which wasn’t entirely unusual. Sid wasn’t sure why he was concentrating so much on the grill – it was just Geno, he’d been coming over for nearly two decades – but he found himself staring intently at the steaks, almost unable to turn around. He asked Geno to grab the potato salad and vegetables from the fridge and his shoulders relaxed as he heard the sliding door. 

Something had been strange, since Geno had come back in September. It wasn’t that he was upset he hadn’t been offered the captaincy: Jim had told Sid in person that Geno had agreed it should go to someone younger, to help develop the team. The old guard were slowly dispersing; Sid retired, Kris planning to retire to Montreal this coming summer. Phil gone to Arizona, Horny playing in Sweden. The team was marching on forward, without Sid, and Geno seemed happy to play alternate to Guentzy. But at the welcome back dinners and barbecues, at early-season video game tournaments and poker nights, which Sid got invited to as if the others couldn’t bear otherwise, something was different between he and Geno. Geno was quieter, almost contemplative, and had drawn back from Sid’s personal space. 

Geno had been in and around Sid’s personal space for nearly eighteen years. He wasn’t sure if he missed it. 

Sid tensed slightly as he heard Geno stand some plates on the table to the side of the grill, and nodded his thanks. Geno stepped back again and watched Sid. It was kind of unnerving, Sid reflected, feeling Geno’s eyes sweep across the back of his head, the line of his shoulders. 

He cleared his throat. “Steaks are done.” His voice seemed too loud in the silent garden. 

_/\\_ 

Dinner was strange. They had eaten quietly, Geno teasing Sid about showing the game on his iPad at the table. Sid had rolled his eyes and noticed his chest warming again at the quiet companionship. It had been a while since he’d hosted a dinner. They rose, Sid going to rinse the dishes while Geno went to the living room. He paused at the door, watching Sid again as if he were about to speak, and Sid let out a long breath when he went and sat down. Sid followed, sat on the sofa by his abandoned book and watched Geno smile contentedly, stretched out along the corner of the sofa. 

It reminded him of those days they had spent together injured, long ago. They would sit in silence in deference to Sid’s head, Geno occasionally grumbling at his phone or book. Sid had never done well alone. When they’d recovered, Sid had missed the companionship. He flinched towards the end table at the thought of enjoying time spent injured, then lowered his hand to the arm of the couch without knocking it against the wood. His superstitions were even more odd, now that he was retired. He was working on it. 

As the second period ended, he turned his head to offer Geno a drink and had to catch his breath. Geno looked almost _mournful_ , eyes wide and soft, mouth pursed. Sid flicked his eyes to the television and saw a happy young girl looking into the camera, the number of a local fostering and adoption agency displayed underneath. Was this what had Geno in such a strange mood lately? Sid had been surprised when Geno’s past relationships had all ended: Oksana, then Anna, and a few years later Katya all eventually deciding the move to Pittsburgh wasn’t for them. Was Geno regretting his decision to stay so long? Of the team, Sid was the only one who had wanted a family more than Geno. And look where we are now, Sid thought wryly. But Geno looked so worried, so wistful. Was he planning to leave, like Kris, and go back to Russia? 

Sid frowned. Geno couldn’t leave, he was integral to the team, to the city. “You okay G?” He asked quietly. His voice sounded rough, and he winced slightly. 

Geno whipped his head around, as if he had forgotten Sid was there. He smiled wanly. “Okay, Sid,” he replied. “Just think, you know?” He nodded at the television. “Want so much but getting old now. Wonder if I can have.” 

Sid swallowed. “I know,” he murmured. “You’re not so old, though. You’ve got time.” 

“Maybe,” Geno admitted. “Been thinking a lot, you know, about life, about after hockey. Think maybe retire soon. Getting slow,” he laughed to himself. 

“You’re still a great player!” Sid defended loyally. It was true, though. By his last three seasons, Sid had accepted that the commentators criticising him were right. He’d become slower, less explosive, less dexterous. Older. “Are you still planning to go back to Russia?” He asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. Geno was meant to be in Pittsburgh, that’s how things worked. 

Geno’s eyes widened, and his smile twisted with something Sid couldn’t quite read. “I don’t know,” Geno admitted. “Wanted to, before, but Pittsburgh is home, you know? Is where I live for years. Like it here, have friends. Can still hang out with team, like you, if I stay.”

Sid felt something unclench in his stomach. “I don’t want you to leave.” His voice sounded too loud as he spoke, and yet the silence immediately drowned him. He watched Geno’s face soften. 

“Don’t want you to leave either, back to Canada,” Geno said softly. He reached across and squeezed Sid’s hand. Sid tried not to start at the touch. Even after so many years, this was something they didn’t do often. Cellys on the ice, back-slapping hugs and invasions of personal space, but not this purposeful, reassuring touch. Sid bit his lip. Geno cleared his throat and took his hand back. “That’s why I came over.” 

“To… tell me not to leave?” Sid asked. 

Geno quirked a smile that didn’t last. “To ask you not to,” Geno started, then paused. Sid felt as if he was holding his breath but couldn’t figure out how to make it stop. “Feel like couldn’t say before, because you captain, I’m alternate on same team, is… difficult. Make strange, work together. But,” here, Geno swallowed and licked his bottom lip. His eyes flickered around the room quickly, then caught on Sid’s and held eye contact. “But, want you to know now. Don’t want go back to Russia when you still here. Don’t want… make family with someone else, if you still here. Want with you, instead.” Geno slumped slightly in his seat and his gaze turned imploring. “Want all with you.” 

Sid blinked. His mouth felt dry. He’d expected… he didn’t know what he had expected, apart from not this. Geno was attracted to men? To Sid? And had been for a long time, it sounded like. “I don’t know what to say,” Sid blurted out. Geno’s slumped shoulders tensed, and he shifted backwards on the couch. Sid hadn’t noticed how close they had gotten, bodies turned into each other, until Geno moved backwards. 

Sid wasn’t sure he wanted Geno to move away from him. 

Sid had never really thought about being in a relationship with a man. It seemed so out of the realm of possibility, for him. Yeah, he found guys attractive sometimes. But that’s not the same as wanting to be in a relationship with a man. Sid steadied his breathing, scrunched his eyes shut, and thought about being with Geno. About wishing him good luck before games and getting into bed next to him after losses. He let himself think about dates out to nice restaurants and zoos; picking up Geno’s preferred brand of toothpaste when he went grocery shopping; kissing Geno, and holding him close, and raising a child together. Making a family together. 

The warmth in his chest from earlier had returned. Sid was pretty sure he was blushing.

 _Oh._

Sid opened his eyes when he felt a shift on the sofa. Geno had stood, hands deep in the pockets of his sweats. He looked miserable, but he was trying to hide it. 

“Is okay, Sid. Just wanted to… tell you. Ask. I’ll go,” Geno said quietly. 

“No, wait,” Sid protested, standing up. “I didn’t even know you were into men,” he said helplessly. 

Geno snorted a laugh. “Not something to- to spread, for me,” he admitted. He shrugged. “Not without good reason.” 

“I want it, too,” Sid said softly. Geno looked into Sid’s eyes. Sid’s abdomen seemed to freeze inside his body, but that warmth in his chest, the one intertwined with thoughts of Geno, made him push through the nerves. He’d never had a problem articulating his wants before, not about hockey, or about his desire to spend time with family, or about his superstitions. And when had Geno become as important to Sid as all those? “What you said. I want you to stay with me. I want to date you. Be in a relationship. I want everything, G.” 

Geno’s eyes brightened steadily while Sid was talking, and he smiled a small, soft smile. Sid recognised it from hundreds of late-night flights, from drunken cabs home and four years of cup parties and team barbecues and dinners just the two of them. He couldn’t imagine a life without that smile. 

Geno was meant to be in Pittsburgh. Geno was meant to be with Sid. That’s how the two of them worked. 

“You sure?” Geno asked quietly. Sid nodded firmly and stepped forward. This close, he had to lean back – slightly, shut up, he grumbled at the voice in his head that giggled like Flower – to look at Geno. His eyes caught on Geno’s mouth and he swayed forward, brushing their lips together. It was the gentlest first kiss he’d ever had, until Geno’s hands came up to hold his shoulders and Sid pressed harder into Geno.

After a few seconds, Sid pulled back and smiled. “I’m sure,” he said softly. Geno was grinning down at him. Sid thought again about building a relationship with Geno, about telling the Penguins and their friends scattered around the world. The thought of being with Geno through it all settled him in a way he vaguely recognised. He smiled wider when he realised what it was. It was the way his and Geno’s handshake used to settle him before a game.

Bring it on, Sid thought, and leaned in to kiss Geno again.


End file.
